


Don't Leave Me

by Huesos



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Death, Hypothermia, I don't know how to tag this, I'm Sorry, I'm a horrible person, M/M, major feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 07:29:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3683421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huesos/pseuds/Huesos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve’s curled up in a ball on the cold and wet alley floor when Bucky, after hours of searching the streets and back alleys of Brooklyn, finally finds him. He runs over to where the small body lays, Steve’s arms still covering his head as if to protect himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Leave Me

**Author's Note:**

> This really didn't come out like I wanted it to but I've had writers block for so long now that I can't not upload it anymore because otherwise it's never going to get done. This might be re written eventually (probably never). Thanks for reading. Also - sorry.

Steve’s curled up in a ball on the cold and wet alley floor when Bucky, after hours of searching the streets and back alleys of Brooklyn, finally finds him. He runs over to where the small body lays, Steve’s arms still covering his head as if to protect himself.

“Jesus, Steve.” Bucky runs over, falling to his knees next to him and pulling Steve onto himself. His breath hitches as he sees the crimson blood and purple bruises covering his friends face. How long had Steve been laying here in the cold? “Hey, hey, come on Steve, we gotta get you home. It’s too cold out.” The only reply is a small whimper but it’s enough. Bucky sighs and hauls Steve up until they’re both on their feet. Bucky takes most of the weight as he drags Steve back to their small, beat up apartment. It only takes 15 minutes to get home but it feels like a trek as he tries to help haul the other man along with him the best he can.

When Bucky finally manages to unlock and open the front door as well as keep Steve on his feet, he drops the scrawny man onto the small ratty single bed that sits in the corner of the room. He stands up and takes a closer look at Steve. He still looks as skinny as always, and he’s used to seeing him beaten up like this, but this time… this time he just seems worse.

It’s then that Steve opens his eyes – well, as much as he can manage – and looks up at Bucky who’s standing over him. His eyes are glazed over, a distant look clouding them as he lets out murmurs of incoherent words stringed together.

“Steve?” Bucky leans forward, leaning on the bed and watches as Steve struggles to pull himself up onto his elbows, almost slumping down again after every pained movement. The mumbling doesn’t stop. “Hey,” Bucky grabs the weaker man and helps him sit up against the two pillows, wincing at the whimpers coming from Steve. “What’s wrong? What’s the matter?”

He finally gets an understandable response but it isn’t what he’s expecting. He’s expecting a complaint about the pain of the bruises that are scattered all over his fragile body, or saying that he can’t breathe so well. What he isn’t expecting is the words “’m cold.” Coming from his friend. He says it over and over again. ‘’m so cold.” And he can see it now. He can see the shivers. The pale skin. The slightly blue lips.

Steve shouldn’t be cold. He should be warming up. Why was he still cold?

“Shit, Steve.” He places his palm against Steve’s cheek and pulls back panicked. Steve’s skin is freezing. And it’s then that Bucky realises what’s wrong. “Shit.” He turns away, slamming his hand on the wall next to him, the loud abrupt noise making Steve jump. “Hey, hey it’s okay Steve. We just need to get you warmed up. Yeah, that’s all we gotta do, and then you’ll be as good as new.”

“’m tired bucky.”

“I know, it’s okay Steve, you can go to sleep.” But Steve’s got his head slumped against his shoulder before Bucky can even finish. He walks over to their shared bed and puts what could only be called a sheet, over his friend. It’s not enough. He needs more layers over him.

“I’ll be right back okay?” He says, ignoring the fact that his friend is asleep and can’t hear him. He sighs and walks out the front door, carefully and quietly shutting it behind him.

______

 

When Bucky returns with a huddle of blankets in his arms, Steve isn’t on the bed anymore. The sheet is strewed over the floor, along with the coat and shirt Steve had on. Bucky curses and searches frantically around the small room but there’s no one in sight. Suddenly, a loud noise erupts from the bathroom and Bucky’s in there in seconds running over to where Steve is propped up against the toilet, his eyes lulled back.

“Jesus, Steve. What the hell are you doing? You need to stay in bed!” He takes the time to look at Steve’s full body which is still shaking, more violently now. He’s only in his underwear now, exposing him even more to the winter chill. They haven’t been able to pay the bills since Bucky got his hours cut from his job down at the docks; the heating is one of the many things that had to be sacrificed, instead resorting to using body warmth as their night time heating. Steve couldn’t afford to let the cold get to him, not with his not-so-good immune system and with his lungs that never quite were fully functioning. But this time… this time Bucky wasn’t there to help Steve when he most needed it.

His thoughts are interrupted by Steve’s voice. A voice that makes him seem even smaller than he already is. “I need a shower, Buck.” Steve manages a small breathless laugh and Bucky admires him for it. Always has to prove he’s not the little scrawny guy everyone else takes him for. Everyone apart from Bucky of course. Bucky looks up to him, always wishes he could be half the man Steve was.

“You don’t need to shower Steve, you need to get back to bed. You’re ill.”

“’m fine. Just need to clean myself up. That’s all.” Bucky sighs. He needs to get Steve gets warmed up before it’s too late, and he’s not going to let it get too late, he’s going to warm Steve up and he’s going to be just fine. Like always. Steve was always fine.

“Please, Steve. You can shower later, just come to bed?” Steve manages to shift enough to look up at Bucky, his eyes full of determination and Bucky knows that it wasn’t enough. He’ll keep going and protesting against Bucky, because that’s what he always does. He fights back, until he can’t fight no more.

He tries again.

“Come to bed, Steve. For me.” He knows he’s got him this time as he sees a type of sadness fill Steve’s blue eyes, and although it hurts him to see it there, he dismisses it. He needs to look after Steve, to protect him, and he’ll do anything to do it. He manages to haul Steve into his arms, bridal style, carrying him into the bedroom and although he can see Steve wants to protest, he cuts him off.

“Don’t.” His firm voice cuts through the silence of the apartment. “You need to get back into bed and there’s no way you can get yourself there, so it’s this or you laying on the bathroom floor.” When he looks down to see Steve leaning his head into the warmth of Bucky’s body, pain washes over him. God, he can’t lose this. He can’t lose Steve. Not now. Not after everything they’ve been through together. He carries on talking, maybe in hope that it will make Steve better or maybe because he doesn’t want Steve to feel alone. He knows what comes next, he’s seen it before in the orphanage. First they just feel cold and tired but then there’s the confusion. He knows how it goes, and if it’s going to happen to Steve he wants to make sure he doesn’t feel alone.

“Christ, Steve, you’re so cold. It’s fine though, we’ll warm you up. Mr Parker and his wife, that nice couple from down the road, gave me a couple of blankets to get by and that nice old lady from next door told me that I should get you to drink a hot drink to try warm you up. Says this kind of thing can be reversed as long as you get helped right. And that’s what I’m going to do, right Stevie?” He gets to the bed and lowers down Steve into it. “We gotta get you dressed first, alright? Then- then we can wrap you up in all the blankets.”

He goes through the drawers next to the bed, finding new clothes – ones that aren’t soaked through – and ends up with a pair of steve’s trousers, one of Bucky’s tops and a sweater that Steve’s mum made for Bucky before she had passed away. Steve’s still laying down in the same position having made no attempt to move. Bucky sighs before leaning up and lifting Steve enough so that his back is against the backboard, his head drops down again, even though Bucky’s sure Steve’s awake still. He must be exhausted.

“It’s okay Steve, we’re going to make you better.” He whispers and sets off about dressing Steve. When he’s done he pulls the sheet off the floor and puts it over Steve again, along with the other 2 blankets he had managed to collect after knocking at, at least, ten of their neighbour’s houses. Most, like them, were short on money and couldn’t give him anything but tips on how to help, most of which consisted of them telling Bucky to keep him warm.

He leaves Steve for a few minutes as he runs the water from the sink, waiting for it to heat up, and when it finally does he fills a glass with the clear hot liquid. He walks back over to the bed where the lifeless body lays, the only thing letting Bucky know that Steve’s alive is the sound of his harsh and shallow breaths and the violent shivering.

He takes it over to him and puts it on top of the drawers.

“Come on, Steve. You gotta drink this okay? It will make you feel better.” No response. Not even a murmur anymore. He sits next to Steve, making the bed dip and shifts Steve so that he’s not laying down flat anymore. Steve’s eyes flutter open. “Drink this.” He says as he grabs the glass and lifts it to Steve’s chapped and split lips. Steve does what he’s told and manages to take a few small sips, despite the pain induced whimpers he makes after each one. Steve pushes the glass away and Bucky gives in, putting the glass back down. He lets Steve lay down again before returning to rummaging through the drawers.

“Maybe,” he says, “Maybe if we find enough clothes to cover you up with, you’ll warm up. Clothes count as layers too, and remember that coat your Ma got you a few Christmas’s ago? Well, that’s real thick, that will help warm you up.” He grabs most of the clothes he finds, pulling them roughly out and laying them over the top of the blankets that are already covering Steve.

“I’ll get you warm. You’ll be okay. Even the old lady next door said so. Said her husband got hypothermia last Winter, couldn’t afford a lot, but managed to warm him up quick enough that she managed to get him better. That’s what we’re going to do to you.” Bucky replays the conversation with his next door neighbour over and over again trying to think of anything that he could have missed. “And she said so herself, that as long as you’re still shivering then it’s completely rever- Steve?” He stops looking through the drawers. He stops breathing. He stops everything.

He looks at the lifeless body in the bed. He can still hear the harsh breaths that Steve’s struggling to pull in, but apart from the rise and fall of Steve’s chest, there’s no movement. There’s- there’s no shivering.

He sobs. He can hear himself let out a mangled cry as his face crumples up. No. No, Steve was going to be fine. He had to be. Steve was always fine. He can hear his cries. The sobs of pain and realisation. There’s wet down his cheeks as he cries and he tries, so hard, so god damn hard, to cry silently, not wanting to disturb Steve, but there’s no use. The cries don’t stop, they get worse. They get louder.

His knees give out and he falls. Falls on the cold hard wood floor and sobs. Chokes out strangled sounds until his tears run dry and can’t find the energy to cry no more. His eyes are red raw and his breath catches every time he tries to breathe. He can still hear Steve breathing, he’s still with him. He can’t let him be alone. He can’t. He has to be there for him. He can’t let Steve be alone. Not now. Not when he knows what’s going to happen.

He manages to drag himself off the floor and crawl over Steve on the bed so he's lying on the inside of the bed, facing Steve. He seems so peaceful. His face is relaxed, his eyes gently closed. He brings his hand up to the pale man’s face, his thumb rubbing over his cold blue lips. He ignores the sniffs that are still escaping him, the aftermath of the crying, and instead begins to talk.

“I remember when I first met you, ya know? I remember it so well it seems like only yesterday.” He says, his thumb rubbing up and down Steve’s bruised cheek. “God, it was so long ago. I was just walking along, minding my own god damn business and I hear this yell from down one of the alleys. It was you of course, yelling about how you could do it all day. I had to look, because I ain’t so bright, not like you are Stevie. So I look down, and there’s you, this scrawny little kid, going up against 3 other boys, at least double your size. Jeez, I thought you were crazy. But I ran down there anyway, fists swinging at those guys until they left you alone. And you remember what you said? You told me that you could’ve done it yourself, that you didn't need me to interfere. Jesus, Steve, that was the exact moment I knew I had to be friends with you."

Bucky's eyes look over Steve's pale angular face as he carries on talking. He doesn't even know what he's saying anymore, the words are blurring as his eyes take in the black and blue on his best friends face. He wishes he had been there. He wishes he had been there when Steve had needed him. Instead he had been in a bar on the other side of town. He had been flirting with girls whilst Steve was being almost beaten to death. Steve didn't deserve this, he deserved the world. Not this. Not now.

 "Jesus, Steve, I love you, you know that? I love you so god damn much.” And it’s then, as the words finally escape his lips, after so many years of holding them in, years of telling himself that he’s just got a stupid crush and that he’ll get over it… it’s then that he realises that silence fills the room, and Steve’s shallow breaths have stopped, and the rise and fall of his fragile chest have ceased.

In his arms, his Stevie dies.


End file.
